


The Only Difference That Matters

by DoctorV



Series: Differences [1]
Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Dakavendish - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 10:09:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12230742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorV/pseuds/DoctorV
Summary: What was so bad about the Mississippi Purchase that Dakota had to prevent it?





	The Only Difference That Matters

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo...been a while, huh. Yep. Anyway...so here's something new! Spawned from discussion of that throwaway "Mississippi Purchase" line.  
> In theory this is part one of three, but uh...well, we'll see if the other two parts ever happens. For now, enjoy. ^_^

It isn't until later, when they're tired and ready to turn in for the night, that Cavendish suddenly frowns and turns to look at him consideringly. "Earlier, you said you joined the Bureau to prevent the...what was it? Mississippi Purchase?"

Unease pokes at Dakota's brain. "Yeah that's right," he says, focusing all his attention on digging his pajamas out of his luggage instead of facing his partner.

"I just realized," Cavendish continues, not noticing Dakota's cautious tone, "that means you're technically from an alternate timeline."

"Guess so," Dakota agrees with forced indifference, brushing it off as if it means nothing.

"What was it like?"

_ We still haven't catalogued all the differences, but we know that the further into the future from the point I originally went back my knowledge of history gets iffy at best and I'm getting used to the way people look at me when I mention something that never happened here,  _ Dakota thinks, then shrugs. "Y'know....different."

Cavendish huffs impatiently. "No I  _ don't _ know, Da _ ko _ ta. Perhaps you could  _ explain _ ."

_ I didn't expect going back to work, or for anyone to come bring me home, and now I don't know what to do with myself. _ He shrugs again. "It's just...you know, things are  _ different _ ."

"Dakota, I've never changed anything enough to be classified as from an alternate timeline. Obviously I  _ don't _ know."

"Oh right..." Dakota mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck as he stares down at his pajama pants. "I forgot. I guess...it's just really hard to explain."

"We  _ are _ partners after all," Cavendish points out. "And I feel like I hardly know anything  _ about _ you, Dakota."

"Vinnie."

"I--What?"

Something terrible and anxious swoops down to sizzle with anticipation low in the pit of his stomach as he glances over his shoulder at his partner and says, "I just figure, if we're gettin' all buddy-buddy now, maybe you could call me by my first name?"

"Oh...yes, I suppose that makes sense," Cavendish agrees, eyebrows rising as if the thought had never occurred to him. "Very well then... _ Vinnie _ ."

It sounds exactly the same, inflection awkward as Cavendish fights the urge to try calling him "Vincent" instead. Joke's on him, anyway, it's not short for anything. Dakota's legal name is "Vinnie". But more importantly, it sounds  _ familiar _ coming from Cavendish's mouth. He hadn't realized how much he  _ missed _ hearing Cavendish say his name.

"In that case, it's only fair that you call me Balthazar."

They used to have play arguments, before, with Cavendish claiming "Vinnie" wasn't a  _ real _ name, it was a nickname. Vinnie would counter that "Balthazar" wasn't much of a name either.

Dakota smiles down at the pajama pants in his hands and resists the urge to call him any of the affectionate nicknames he came up with over the years that they knew each other as he says slowly, as if testing it out, "Balthazar. ...Suits you."

"Hmh. I rather hope so."

"You mind if I take the bathroom first?" Dakota asks, hand already on the door. Before his partner can answer, he's in the small bathroom and adding, "Thanks, Bal! I'll just be a minute."

The door closes on Cavendish's surprised sputtering, not that the thin wood blocks much of the sound, and he grins to himself at it. The grin doesn't last long, though, sliding from his face as he sets his pajamas on the edge of the sink. There isn't much to the bathroom, just a wall mounted sink, a toilet with a lopsided tank cover, and a shower stall barely big enough for Dakota to turn around in. Of the three, only the toilet doesn't leak, and he suspects that's only because it rarely has enough water in it to do so.

Taking off his tinted glasses, Vinnie takes a good look at himself in the tarnished mirror and blows out a slow breath. The bags under his eyes aren't as dark as they were a few months ago. But they're still there, no matter how good he is about taking the sleeping pills that ward away the insomnia and night terrors that plagued him when he first returned from the past. Slow progress is still progress, his therapist tells him.

He doesn't reach out in his sleep anymore for someone who isn't there, that's progress. He hardly ever has to bite his tongue to hold back an overly familiar "I love you" when talking to Cavendish. He's still working on recognizing that Cavendish isn't the same man he married so many years ago, which is tougher because Vinnie still misses him.

_ What would you think, _ he wonders of his partner, smiling sadly at his own reflection,  _ if I told you you're the biggest difference. The only one I care about. Because I loved you more than anything and then you were gone and nothing mattered anymore. I didn't expect to survive the trip when they sent me back to fix things, Bal. I never expected to see you again. But I did, and you're alive and just as fussy and ridiculous as I remember, and sometimes I forget you're not my husband anymore. _

Vinnie sighs and rubs a hand over his face, getting lost in thoughts of the timeline he'd helped prevent. The timeline he was technically from. When the last necessary breakthrough in time travel technology had finally been made, professional and amateur historians had been recruited in secret. People had died collecting history texts that hadn't been... _ revised _ .

That had been the key to the whole thing, actual paper and ink books. If you could find them, the words in them were exactly the same as the day they were printed. Anything electronic couldn't be fully trusted after the first time they discovered a massive edit in some incredibly crucial information. Human memory, in that case, had saved the day. An old history professor who flew under the radar enough to avoid jail time had remembered reading something different decades ago, and an amateur historian with a collection of contraband history books had brought one in to confirm.

After that they got their research almost exclusively from books. They were safer, anyway. Books didn't have a search history that could be tracked. As long as no one actually  _ saw _ them reading, no one ever had to know.

He closes his eyes and smiles fondly, remembering late nights reading until his eyes burned, taking notes until his hand cramped, and his Bal patiently bringing him tea and kissing his forehead. Later, Bal manhandling him away from the table covered in books, papers, and dried-out pens, shuffling him off to their bedroom with a chiding "It will be there in the  _ morning _ , Vinnie. You're coming to bed  _ now _ ."

And he had gone, with only a little playful grumbling, because he could deny his husband nothing. Still as stupidly, soppily in love with him as when they first started dating.

As bad as things ever got, it was never  _ too _ bad, because he had Balthazar...

Vinnie opens his eyes and watches his reflection's shoulders slump. He never should've opened his big mouth and mentioned the Mississippi Purchase, the turning point in history that they had finally pinpointed. Too late, though. Much too late to save Bal.

Maybe if Bal had never died Vinnie wouldn't have been the one to go, too numb from grief to care about shoddy craftsmanship in the device supposed to send him hurtling back in time. Maybe someone else would have done it and he'd have been caught in the ripples traveling forward through time to fix everything. Maybe that him would have met this Balthazar Cavendish for the first time when they were assigned as partners, never knowing that in another timeline they had been so much more to each other...

Maybes and what-ifs, his therapist has told him, are pointless and unhealthy. 

Heaving another deep sigh, Vinnie shakes his head and strips off his top, hanging it off the doorknob as best he can out of lack of anywhere else to put it. The heavy gold chain comes off next; experience has taught him that sleeping in it means he'll wake up choking on it. Shoes are kicked into the corner by the door and pants tossed on top. When he reaches for his pajamas, he realizes he only brought the pants in with him, too rushed trying to escape Cavendish's questions and the memories that followed.

Vinnie makes a face in the mirror. Fat lot of good that did him, instead of dancing around his partner's questions he'd ended up reminiscing in the bathroom. Now he's bummed out and probably going to get ambushed while half-naked as soon as he steps foot outside. Thoughtfully tugging at a few curly chest hairs, he wonders if this Cavendish is prudish enough to be bothered by his lack of shirt. Ultimately deciding he's too tired to care, Vinnie puts his glasses back on and gathers up his clothes and shoes.

As soon as he's got the door halfway open, he hears an irritated huff and "What  _ took _ you so long. That was most definitely not a minute!"

Fondness for the silly, huffy man he's found himself lucky enough to have in his life again floods through Vinnie, making him smile as he sets his shoes next to his bag and dumps the day's clothes on top. Somehow Bal always manages to cheer him up when he's feeling down. "And you were keeping track, I suppose."

"As a matter of fact," Cavendish replies, holding up his pocketwatch pointedly and frowning.

Vinnie grins, chuckling a little and shaking his head. "You're ridiculous."

"I most certainly am not!"

"You  _ are _ ," Vinnie argues, digging through his luggage again. "No one wears a three piece suit to bed."

Cavendish sputters. "Well... Well you're...not wearing a shirt!"

"Yep, you caught me," Vinnie says, shrugging as he turns back around and spreads his hands a little. "No shirt. Go put your PJs on, Balthazar."

That anticipatory swooping tingles through Vinnie's gut again as he notices Bal's eyes glancing over him, lingering on bare skin. But Balthazar Cavendish is nothing if not a professional and he stomps past Vinnie into the bathroom with a cloth bundle under his arm.

Well...that's certainly something.

He hadn't ever considered that if his Bal found him attractive, maybe this one would too. Especially after that "attractive partner" crack earlier. But he knows what Balthazar looks like when he's checking Vinnie out, and that was it.

That's going to be fun to explore later.

Still smiling fondly, he digs out his sleeping pills and downs one with a swig from a nearby water bottle. As he settles in his bed, he's already feeling drowsy by the time he hears Bal come out of the bathroom.

"Now, Vinnie, I wanted to ask you more about your timeline."

"Mm," Vinnie agrees, barely having to play up how close to sleep he is.

"What are--Oh  _ blast _ , you've already taken your pill, haven't you?"

Vinnie just hums an affirmative.

" _ Fine. _ We'll pick this back up in the morning. ...Goodnight, Vinnie."

"L'you," Vinnie slurs, no longer conscious enough to remember why he shouldn't tell his husband he loves him.


End file.
